


A Marionette's Bliss

by Fooeyburr



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Humiliation, M/M, Post-Betrayal, Pre-Betrayal, Smut, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Weirdmageddon, dubcon, human puppetry?, possession is a helluva drug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 09:59:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8708092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fooeyburr/pseuds/Fooeyburr
Summary: "Either the memory of past bliss is the anguish of today; or the agonies which are have their origins in ecstasies which might have been."- Edgar Allan Poe





	

There was something about physical comfort that always left Stanford Pines somewhat restless. Perhaps it was his deep-rooted habit of keeping his hands out of sight that had resulted in avoiding bodily contact altogether. Living several years deep in the woods with close to no human interaction didn’t do much to make his own physicality seem less like an unnecessary restraint rather than a potential means of communication, and his years of solitude and dedication to his research eventually took the place of the basic social instinct, a wish to connect.

That’s why he was quite surprised to find Bill Cipher, an otherworldly astral being with no access to the material plane in and of itself, reaching for his attention by the means of physical touch.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“Ahh, physical form! I gotta give it to ya, Sixer, when you take out the mortality bit, these lumps of flesh and tissue are straight up luxurious. Really gives you a better _grasp_ of things if you know what I mean?”

He thrummed his feet against the back of the man kneeling before his throne. “Ya see, I was originally going for a golden footstool, says so on my interior design plan and everything… but then I remembered how _squishy and squirmy_ you meatsacks are, and I just couldn’t help myself! Goes both ways, remember? Aw, of course you do! Humans never forget these things – boy, do they _try_ , though!”

Ford gritted his teeth. He had known it would come to that eventually. From the moment he was captured, he’d been waiting, fearing for Bill to bring it up. There was no way the demon would leave it out of the means of humiliation he seemed to so utterly enjoy putting him through.

A hand lightly grazing the tips of his curls confirmed his terrified anticipation for what was coming, making him cower even though he was already on his knees.

“Let’s talk a little about the past, shall we?”

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

It had all begun with the hair.

The first time Ford felt small fingers absently petting his head, he gave a violent start from the sheer unexpectedness of the sensation. He turned swiftly from the crossdimensional theorem he was working on to face his companion. “B-Bill?”

Bill held his hands up in a defensive manner. “Whoa, hold still, Brains! I was just getting started here!”

“Uh, started with… what, exactly?” Ford asked bewildered. He had to fight the urge to pull away when Bill’s fingers dove into his hair and ruffled it, less tentatively this time.

He was not used to something like this.

“Getting to know this human fluff abundance, of course! You fleshlings are covered with all kinds of weird textures, and I think this one’s my favorite! So silky!”

“Uhm… Bill, this is…” Ford stood still, unable to come up with a proper reaction. This… wasn’t a part of their deal. He didn’t understand why Bill, an immaterial entity who had so far only shown great appreciation for his intellect and seemed disinterested towards his humanity itself, was suddenly so intrigued by his physical attributes. “Uh, so you… are curious of the texture?”

“Sure I am! Oho, and it smells good, too!”

“Uh…” He could _smell_ his hair in the Dreamscape? Well, technically the astral form had a direct sensory link to the body in the physical plane. However, Bill didn’t have such an anchor, so – wait, how did he even have a sense of smell to begin with? On the other hand, he did speak without any kind of a respiratory system or vocal cords, and his triangular anatomy didn’t make much sense even by the anomalous standards. Perhaps senses worked to him on a wholly different set of premises... There was so much he did not know about his muse.

He was brought back from his thoughts when Bill’s hands suddenly retreated, accompanied by a nonchalant notion of “right, that was fun, now back to work”. Ford simply nodded and complied, unsure as to how he should take this strange incident. It appeared to be mere curiosity on Bill’s behalf, and the thought of being a subject of fascination to an omniscient being was an added element of flattery to the fact that he’d chosen Ford to help him with the portal to begin with. Besides, it wasn’t at all unpleasant, just slightly peculiar – and as such, it piqued the anomaly researcher’s own interest as well.

As he didn’t know if this was merely a one-time occasion, he left it at that for the time being.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Over time it became clear that it was definitely not a one-time occasion. Now that Bill seemed to have discovered a liking to Ford’s hair, his hand tended to constantly wander to mess with the brown curls whenever he happened to float nearby the man’s head. After a few jumps of surprise Ford quickly learned to not mind it, and as an amiable ruffle after a successful step forward in their work started to become a pattern, he soon grew to actually like it. He was used to being praised for his intellect, but the idea of receiving physical attention as part of that praise – and from a creature intellectually superior to him, no less – made it that much more special.

It never occurred to him that it could be equally special for Bill himself.

“You know, Fordsy…” Bill mused out loud one time when consecutive pats had prolonged into a moment of relaxation after they’d finished working on the portal calculations for the night. Occasions like these had lately become more frequent, as well as his nicknames related to brain or intellect being replaced by this one which, quite honestly, sounded more like a pet name.

Ford opened his eyes that had somehow slipped shut at some point without him noticing. “What is it, Bill?”

“Well, it’s just…” his muse sounded uncharacteristically thoughtful. “There really is some charm in this two-way business of your dimension.”

“Two-way?”

“That’s right! Ya see, back where I come from, things only go one way. Touch or be touched. Control or be controlled. Watch or be watched! Basically every form of interaction is always just either giving or receiving with nothing in between. That’s how it goes when you’re stuck in 2D. Depth? Now _that’s_ something!”

Ford blinked, confused. “I’m sorry, Bill, I don’t quite follow.”

“Oh, well, my little three-dimensional friend, let me elaborate! Take music for example. Fine form of art right there, that one! Always liked how you mortals know how to jazz it up! Think about it like this: music consists of several separate threads of noise. But when you knit those threads together, it turns into an entirely new sound of its own! And what’s more, it has properties the original components didn’t have – harmonious, dissonant, muddy, shrill, you name it!”

“…Fascinating.” To Ford, this was a whole new aspect to the world he lived in. He never thought dimensional depth would apply to the means of interaction as well.

“It sure is! So when I touch you –“ an almost possessive motion through his curls brought the researcher’s attention back to the situation at hand, “it’s not just me putting my hands on you, or you being touched. It’s not either or, it’s both _and_ more!”

“More…?”

“You know – action, reaction, and the synthesis of those! Tension, friction, electricity! Your anticipation to feel my touch every time you do something right as well as the kick I get from it – like a work of art, if I may say so myself! Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate you sharing your Dreamscape with me in the first place, but this really adds a whole new spark to it!”

“Uhm…” Ford was vaguely aware of his face having grown slightly more heated than usual. “Well, I’m glad if it… deepens our connection.”

“Sure Bob! In fact, I have something else in mind that would do just that! But that’s a bridge we can cross a little later.”

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

It was shortly after this exchange that possession became a part of their deal.

Ford immediately agreed to Bill’s proposition, not stopping to think what giving up one’s body to a non-corporeal being might result in. If anything, he was thrilled by the idea of the genuine out-of-body experience it would provide for himself. It was as if he would, for a short amount of time, become a part of something greater, something superior to mortals. Perhaps the new world he and Bill were creating would exceed physicality altogether.

While all these expectations might’ve made being pulled out of his body slightly underwhelming – aside from the missing physical sensations, being in an astral form had very little difference to the countless nights he and Bill had shared in the Dreamscape – watching Bill operate in his own body was proved far more… intriguing than what he’d thought.

The experience of watching himself was bizarre enough, and Bill’s unhinged antics made it all the more uncanny. There was a stark contrast to his usual composed and slightly self-rejective physical demeanor: Bill, for his part, made it his mission to experiment with all aspects of his borrowed physicality and, without a doubt, loved every bit of it. Even when he was careless with the well-being of his puppet – and he often was – the sensations it resulted in were met with all but ecstatic laughter.

Ford was baffled. Seeing his own physical form being so vividly used and _embraced_ by its temporary resident was truly… strange.

And it was about to get even stranger.

“Hoo boy! As fun as this has been, Sixer, I think I gotta give this one-man party a little break. Wouldn’t want this meatsack to start rejecting you at this point, would we? Nah, we still have loads of work to do before we can render your fleshy bits useless! Don’t you worry though – if this old thing ever runs out of steam, I’ll just get you a new one! Hahaha!”

And the next thing Ford knew, he was back in his own body, gasping for breath and fighting a massive surge of panic as every cell in his body was set ablaze with the warning sensation of something being wrong, wrong, _wrong_.

“Oh, by the bye”, he heard Bill’s voice whoop from the distance of his mind, “it’s gonna be a bit funky for the next twelve hours, so you _might_ wanna have your nearest doc’s phone number at hand. Just for the encouragement, you know, not that they would get here in time through that snowstorm anyway. Later, pal!”

There was no time for him to form a reply before his body became occupied with vomiting violently on the floor.

The following night must’ve been the longest of his entire life. Despite Bill having assured it wasn’t the case, Ford felt like he was dying. It was as though his whole body was in a state of fatal inflammation, and it kicked his immune system into overdrive. His pulse was racing with a fever that must’ve been sky high for hours on end before his body could finally convince itself of whatever intruder had entered it having inexplicably vanished without a trace.

Once the initial state of alarm had calmed down, he soon became aware of the possession having surfaced something… completely different.

Euphoria.

Pure bliss, unlike anything Ford had felt before. He felt alive. It was as if his mind had somehow expanded, his senses were ten-fold stronger and he felt everything, _everything_ , he was so _aware_ of himself and his surroundings wrapping itself around him like he was the center of some strange gravitational pull.

He felt like he was dancing wildly around the room even though he hadn’t moved an inch from the spot where Bill had left his body.

With a sigh trembling with excitement and wonder, he let his hands slide all across himself, intoxicated by the happiness of just being there, existing.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“Well, good morning to _you_! Haven’t seen these beauties in a while. Looking pretty good on ya, Sixer, even if they’re no longer attached! Shame, really. One of the finest pieces of my handiwork – and _someone_ just had to tear it apart.”

“So here’s an interesting speck of information about your silly little species. An average human meatsack renews itself entirely in the course of 12 years. Well, in your case it’s much more than that, seeing how all your molecules had to reassemble themselves every time you crossed a dimensional border! Your body has lived through more regenerative cycles than any other human in history – technically you must have 50 to 100 years’ worth of additional age in your bones, and yet you’re still going strong as ever. Boy, you really are something else to talk about!”

“My point here being that there is not a single cell or fiber in your body left from the time when we first met. Nothing left in your body that I’ve possessed or laid my hands on, and even so…”

“Everything stays.”

“Your muscles still remember every bit of bliss you felt back then. You’re still reacting just like all those years ago.”

“WELL, GEE. I WONDER WHY THAT IS, OLD PAL?”

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

It had most likely been, he thought later on, something between a self-induced psychoactive delirium and a spiritual awakening.

Stanford Pines was not a religious man. His collaborations with Bill were purely scientific in nature – yet there's something in the omniscient entity's presence itself that made him want to maintain a respectful distance. He was willing to participate in Bill’s haphazard whims, the seemingly endless interest in his hair amongst them, but kept his own curiosity at bay. He didn’t want to appear an overenthusiastic fool in his muse’s eyes.

This became increasingly difficult as possession gradually became an everyday occurrence.

Despite Ford’s concerns after quite the overwhelming first time, his body showed no signs of rejection or panic upon being taken over again. Quite the opposite, actually: over time, the shivers that followed every possession were becoming less a sign of satisfaction and more like… a thirst. An addict’s impatience, a constant craving for more as soon as he felt the last traces of Bill’s presence disappear from his veins.

In less than a month, he was willing – verging on desperate – to let Bill inhabit his body permanently. The only thing stopping him from proposing this to his muse was the appearance of a certain Fiddleford Hadron McGucket, whom he had invited to join his project a week earlier.

Fiddleford’s involvement was necessary for finishing the construction of the portal ( _the portal_ , Ford had to constantly remind himself, _keep your focus on the portal_ ), but it did hinder with Ford’s daily possession routine (although, of course, possession was merely a means, not an objective in itself, _focus on the portal_ ). He still had plenty of shared time with Bill in the Dreamscape, and as always, the small black fingers were eager to sink into his hair every so often…

…more often than before?

That’s how it appeared to Ford. Perhaps he was just imagining it. It might’ve even been less frequent, he couldn’t say for sure. But despite being more than willing to comply to his muse’s wishes, was now compelled to draw away from Bill’s touches from the sheer, excruciating _longing_ it awoke within him.

That same longing remained in the morning, leaving his body aching and feeling hollow.

He needed a distraction.

When he wasn’t working on the portal ( _he had to… focus… on the portal_ ), his hands were almost compulsively seeking something to busy themselves with. Eventually that undefined something started to take the form of artwork – illustrations, sculptures, installations – all depicting a familiar triangular shape with one eye. He worked in a state of fervor when he should’ve been resting and gathering the strength he needed for building the portal ( _the portal, THE PORTAL, FOCUS_ ). The fleeting moments of being possessed gave him little comfort; the emptiness settled back in the second the all-knowing entity vanished from his body.

He missed Bill. He longed for his muse in his every waking hour. He longed to feel him, inside himself, taking over, taking control. He began to find himself absent and inattentive, caressing the countless images of Bill surrounding him with his fingertips, no longer able to focus on either the portal or his artwork. He was in a state of distress – he couldn’t bring himself to relax, he’d run out of outlets for his constant frustration, and it was slowly but steadily driving him out of his mind.

Eventually the torment became too much.

“B… Bill, I’m sorry, I…”

Deep shame pounded his insides at the look of surprise in Bill’s eye after he’d suddenly flinched away from his touch in the Dreamscape.

“Whoa there! What’s the matter, Six? Somebody put bees in your sandwich today? Wasn’t me, cross my figurative heart! I’d look into that Banjo fella if I was you!”

“No, it’s… not about that.” If there had been bees in his sandwich, he hadn’t paid enough attention to notice. He couldn’t recall if he’d even had a sandwich that day. He shook his head. Bill was probably just messing with him.

That… was something he’d do, right? Confuse and mislead him on purpose, just for laughs. Perhaps that’s what _this_ was all about, as well. But… why would he intentionally bring him discomfort that he knew would interfere with his work on the portal? How would he ever be able to fulfil his muse’s wishes if he couldn’t even understand him?

“Hey, hey…. c’mere, buddy.” His racing heart clenched when Bill grabbed his face gently. “Sheesh, kid, you’re looking _real_ out of it! Do I need to state the obvious? You might’ve picked up a few bad habits from your favorite party binger here, but you flesh puppets do need that daily maintenance – as boring as it is, I know!”

“Bill –“

“Look, I know I told you we can get you a new one if this pretty thing goes out of order, but that skittish assistant of yours might have a _teensy_ problem with that! Better not risk him bailing the project, amiright?”

“Bill, please…” his throat felt tight. “I...”

He couldn’t bring himself to move away from the heated hands brushing his jawline. He couldn’t even ask Bill to stop.

“You’re not having second thoughts about this little mission of ours, are ya?”

Bill’s voice hadn’t lost its chummy tone, but something about his words made Ford freeze with fear. “N… no, of course not! I would never even fathom, I…” But if it had been the case… Would his muse simply find someone else to replace him with? Would he just… abandon him and… never… return?

His life would be over.

“Bill”, he breathed, “you told me possession would deepen our connection, did you not? And yet, I feel incomplete. I feel empty. I want to be of use to you as far as possible, and I feel I am not fulfilling that purpose. I cannot reach my full potential… without you.” He bowed his head down all but reverently. “Please, I… I don’t want to impose myself on you, and I know the ignorance of a weak human such as myself is surely the least of your concerns, but… please… I need your guidance.”

Bill’s fingertips brushed slightly against his lower lip as they drew away from his face, and for a fleeting second, he was almost overpowered by the urge to pull the hand back and kiss it.

…Almost.

The image didn’t, at the very least, lessen the feverish heat that spread across his face at Bill’s soft tone when he spoke. “Oh, Fordsy, there’s hardly anything but diligence and greatness in this fluffy head, is there?”

Ford trembled as a hand reached to caress his hair.

“You’re taking your measly human existence to its limits already, and it’s still not enough for you? Now that’s what I call greed. I like it. You’re gonna be fun to rule the new world together with.”

… _Rule the world… together_. The man’s legs nearly gave in at his muse’s words. His mouth felt dry.

“So! Deeper connection, huh? You bet I won’t say no to that!” Bill whooped cheerily. “As much as I’d fancy more possession myself, old Fiddlesticks is suspicious enough as it is, don’t you agree? Hm…”

Ford gulped as the triangular entity circled him, his golden surface flickering in a thoughtful manner. “Well, I do have… something in mind…”

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

_Stop shaking. Stop shaking. Stop shaking, for god’s sake!_

“So how long did it take you to catch on? Lemme guess, that old hag cut them for ya along with the addition of this dumb plate?” There was a metallic clang as knuckles rapped on his temple. “Hey, I asked you a question.”

“…Yes. Yes, it was… h… her.” Ford’s breaths were heavy, so heavy it was difficult to make sense of his own words. Being forced to speak was mortifying enough in itself, and the constant threat of his airways being completely cut off didn’t make it any easier.

“Hmph. Figures”, Bill scoffed. “Give a gal a few extra eyes and she thinks she’s entitled to taking everyone else’s toys. So how was it? The aftermath, I mean. Was it liberating? Gratifying? Relieving? D’ya feel like you’d regained your autonomy? Like you were your own man again?”

Ford couldn’t breathe, and it had nothing to do with the collar around his neck. He didn’t _dare_ to breathe.

Bill traced the thin lines on his bare skin, and the whimper fought its way out against all his struggles. “Didn’t think so, pal. Nah… You were just as terrified as you are now. Bet that was something of a wake-up call for ya, wasn’t it? You couldn’t even tell my influence apart from your own will! Anyone else would’ve realized they were under control, but you? You, my little friend, questioned nothing! I guess all that grey matter came at the price of a backbone.”

There was a certain kind of irony in his words, seeing how his fingertips were running along the man’s spine at that very moment.

“Then again…”

Ford’s fingertips curled against the floor as the hand, once again, found its way to his hair.

“Puppets don’t really need one, do they?”

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“Well then, let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

“Wha--”

And suddenly Ford was on his knees, his upper body stripped naked, Bill’s hands were exploring his back, and…

“B-Bill, what is –“

“You might not be the toughest thug on the streets, but you’re familiar with the concept of tattoos, right? This is kinda like that, only better. Oh, and”, Bill added nonchalantly, stretching his fingers – if Ford hadn’t been facing the other way, he could’ve caught a glimpse of claws, glowing a pale blue, “you might feel a little sting.”

And suddenly Ford was grateful for his kneeling position, because the pain would’ve doubled him over either way; he was grateful Bill was focused on his back, so the glaringly obvious signs of how _intensely_ his body was reacting to the situation were blocked from his muse’s field of vision; and he was grateful for the pain and the screams it drew out of him that he could drown his ecstatic moans under.

Even if Bill had caught some of them, he didn’t seem to particularly mind. He took his time, sinking his claws into the trembling man’s skin with care and precision of a craftsman working on his masterpiece. It was, as he explained, a procedure in which he would weave threads of his essence into Ford’s astral form; the effects would bleed into reality as soon as he woke up.

Ford didn’t know the purpose of this new link between them. He didn’t ask.

To him, it was a ceremony.

He regained consciousness in his private study, panting and covered in cold sweat, collapsed before one of his most intricate paintings of his muse. He got slowly on his trembling knees and leaned his forehead against the picture’s golden frame, laughing noiselessly between his heavy breaths as he traced the outlines of his god with a touch filled with nothing but reverence and love.

The hardness rubbing against the front of his trousers was aching for a release, but his hands showed no intention of granting it. They refused to move an inch from the image they were clutching onto.

It was… better this way.

His connection with Bill was deeper than ever before, and this… this was just proof of it. It was sweeter than any release. Why would he want this to ever end?

That night, Stanford Pines was awake. His lust stayed with him, and his devotion grew with every stifled moan and twitch left unanswered.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“Thirty years. Thirty long years of hard work and patience it took me to get this far. Pretty admirable, huh? Not that you haven’t been there yourself! I guess there was plenty of going and coming around on both our behalf, huh?”

Ford squirmed weakly against the numerous black hands stripping him out of his last bits of clothing. He had no fight left in him; he wasn’t sure there had ever been any fight to run out of to begin with. His chains were hanging loose, not once having been used to restrain his movements. There was no need for that.

His body outright refused to oppose Bill in any way.

Bill looked strangely pleased at the sight of his naked body. “The-re you are. Never understood why you fleshlings are so hellbent on covering your only real advantage compared to the rest of us.  I mean – look at me! Boy, you can’t even imagine how much crossdimensional transmission energy goes into maintaining this physical thing, while _your_ flesh suit is damn near autotrophic! Of course it’s a matter of what it contains too, although… I must say”, two sets of hand ruffled Ford’s hair in a teasing manner, “for a human, you’re quite the package. Up, down and inside out.”

_Don’t. Please… don’t._

“When I said you’re fit to rule by my side, I did mean it, y’know.”

“No... _No.”_

It was as though Bill’s claws were sinking through the mop of grey hair straight into his brain. Like the strings had never been cut.

“Truth be told, I was a teensy bit more careless than I’d like to admit”, the demon continued almost dreamily. “I was too entertained by you when I should’ve just driven you to finish that stupid portal… Could’ve saved us both a lot of trouble. Guess you weren’t the only one who got carried away in the process, Fordsy. But hey, all’s well that ends well, right? Maybe it wasn’t all in vain. Maybe we both learned something during these thirty years. For instance…”

Fingers danced across the symmetric marks on his back. “I think I know a _little_ bit more in detail how to keep my puppet happy.”

The puppet didn’t respond; he was strangely limp in his master’s possessively nestling arms as they pulled him a little closer to the throne.

Bill let out a rash laugh as if he’d never even expected anything otherwise. “You can’t really blame me, though! I might appear a chipper dapper chap on the outside, but believe it or not, Bill Cipher means business. For an embodiment of chaos, I’m actually pretty methodical! Had some serious ambitions going on back in the day, but – haha, well, here we are, and I think it’s safe to say it was worth the effort! Now I can finally relax, and I suggest you do the same.”

As the man still remained quiet, Bill was finally starting to show signs of impatience.

“Hey. Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

“…No.”

“Defiant, huh? Oh, but that just won’t do!” A hand was petting and smoothing his hair again, careful to not let the demon’s slight annoyance show. “Remember what I told you, Stanford? Watch or be watched, right? I’m done just watching this dimension, pal. I crossed the border, I came to this dimension, I acquired a physical form and I _want to be looked at_. After all these years, you owe me some reciprocation. Now be a good boy… and **_look at me_**.”

“N-no…” But it only took a gentle grip on his chin to get him do what he was told.

Bill’s glow was just as overpowering as Ford remembered it. Perhaps it was his position that strengthened the sense of familiarity. He was… always cowering beneath his muse’s feet on his own accord, wasn’t he? Their partnership had never been equal, and Ford wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“C’mere.”

Hands winding around his body snapped him out of his haze.

“No”, he breathed out as Bill lifted him gently up on his lap. “No. No, no, no…”

Bill laughed. “Sheesh, Stanford, what’s with all the fuss? It’s me, your old pal Bill! The one you’ve shared your body and mind with, remember? Don’t be shy. It’s just you and me now, Fordsy… Just you and me.”

At that moment, the loud party music and the racket of Bill’s fellow demons vanished completely. Silence echoed through the vast throne room. They were alone.

“See?” Bill almost whispered, pulling him closer. “Much better, right? This is what you always wanted so desperately. No distractions. None of Teeth’s dumb clattering, no jarring banjos, no nosy nephews, no astral bullshit… Just us, finally on the same plane, just you… and me.”

It took Ford several seconds to realize that Bill’s eyelids were now a pair of lips, softly nipping at his.

The flinch that followed was so violent he would’ve fallen down the throne had it not been for Bill’s hold on him.

“No!” he screamed, struggling as panic fought the paralyzing haze in his brain. “No, I can’t… I c- please don’t make me do this –“

“Shhh.” A finger was pressed against his lips while countless others slid across his bare skin, rendering him unable to speak. “I told you to _relax_. Really, all I’m trying to do is help you feel comfortable, but it’s like you’re _choosing_ to be scared stiff… Unless…”

A hand found its way to his inner thigh.

“…you’re stiff for entirely different reasons.”

Ford was sure he was going to lose consciousness.

“Oh, yes, Fordsy, I noticed.” There was a hint of amusement in Bill’s voice. “How could I not? You just couldn’t keep your mouth shut when you were asleep, I could practically hear it all the way to the Dreamscape. I bet even Banjo caught on towards the end. You never acted on it, though, not once. That’s quite impressive, I must admit. I know how your lot usually rolls with these things. It’s started wars, you know! Been there, seen it all.”

The man’s breathing was so fitful he could see black spots appearing in his vision. He really was going to faint.

“I’ve seen lots of things, you know.”

The hand moved slightly, and Ford’s lungs suddenly decided he needed air after all. It was as though he was inhaling the strange energy stirring around Bill along with his sharp gasps; his body was shaking like it had received an electric shock.

“Tell you what. I just happen to be in a fantastic mood today”, the voice muttered softly, “so I suppose I could demonstrate. Just for old times’ sake, you know? See how that two-way touch business works in the physical realm. No strings attached, literal or figurative. It’s a special offer, Fordsy. A treat for your hard work. You deserve it.”

The hand left his thigh to hover just below his throbbing length. He could feel the heat shifting in a slow back-and-forth motion, fingertips dancing around the tip just one tenth of an inch from contact.

“I’ll do anything you want, anything at all...” He could barely hear Bill’s words from beneath the thunder of his own heart pounding against his ribs. “All you need to do… is ask.”

Ford whined, biting his lip so hard his teeth almost pierced the skin.

“No?” There was a note of surprise in Bill’s voice. “Well, aren’t you a persistent one. Or is asking for a favor a bit too demeaning for a diligent little marionette like yourself? Can’t take action unless it’s on a direct order? Aw, don’t you worry, buddy… That can be arranged.”

And then there was a knee between his legs, and there was _so much contact_ , so much firm heat against his, and it –

–  it was –

–   _his muse_ –

Bill looked pleased at the sound of his desperate moans he had no chance of holding in.

“You wanna do all the work yourself, don’t ya?” he asked almost gently. “Then do it yourself. Show me what you got. I’ll be watching you, just like you always wanted. I even permit you to look at me while you do it. In fact, I _demand_ it.”

There was nothing Ford could do to stop the feverish sounds from pushing through his gritted teeth. He was no longer shaking; his entire body was strained and throbbing with lust, every cell and fiber screaming for friction, telling him to move, and…

…he didn’t move an inch.

“…Huh.” This time, Bill sounded slightly disappointed. “Well, this is just sad. Boy, if I still had you wired up all nice and good, this would be taken care of lickety split. You can only blame yourself for allowing that stupid witch to operate on you.”

Ford felt the extra hands retreat from his sweat-drenched skin, leaving only the one running through his hair.

There was no relief, quite the opposite. “B...”

Bill had finally turned his eye from him and was now inspecting his nails in an unconcerned manner. “To be honest with you, Stanford, I expected you to show a little more faith back there. I mean… All that devotion, those paintings and sculptures and altars, vows of loyalty, _‘until the end of time’_ and whatwith… And you reject me after one occasion where my plans don’t add up in your limited human mind? I just can’t believe you. You didn’t even give me a chance.”

There was a sudden, violent motion rushing through Ford’s whole body. His hips jerked flush against the leg that was still pressed up on him. He dug his fingernails instinctively into Bill’s thigh to keep himself steady.

Wh..?

A loud, shaky gasp escaped him as the underside of his cock rubbed against the inorganic flesh slick with his own precum. “Ah – B-Bill –“

What... _why did..._

“I thought we had something special, but no.” The contrast between Bill’s comforting touch and his voice dripping with condescencion was so stark it felt almost surreal, like the words he spoke were coming from someone entirely different. “Your so-called devotion was just a weak joke.”

_Tension. Friction. Electricity._

His hips were grinding against the wet flesh on their own. He couldn’t stop himself, He couldn’t... “Hh… Bill… hhah… no, I… Bill, _p-please_ …” _No, listen to me, let me explain, no, please, please, I never..._

“You were disloyal.”

“N-no, nhh… B-“

_He was right. God, he was right. Why did... why the hell was he... why did it feel so good, why now, **why?**_

“ _You_ were the one who betrayed _me_.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m- _ahh!_ I’m so sorry, I’m s-sorry…P… _please_ …” He pressed his forehead against Bill’s glowing front as his broken sobs got tangled with moans and gasps of pleasure. He was numb with lust but no amount of friction seemed to be enough, his head felt like it would shatter to pieces any –

“It’s okay, Stanford”, Bill whispered, stroking his hair lovingly. “It’s okay. I forgive you.”

“...–!”

There was no noise, not a single breath left in his lungs as he came over Bill’s knee, his body twitching and jerking like a broken doll upon its long-awaited release before collapsing.

It was… over. He’d...

He was…

...

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

He... must’ve fainted for a moment.

The hands had returned and were now cradling him soothingly, caressing his cheek, wiping a trickle of saliva off his chin.The all-seeing eye was watching over him, half-lidded with a smile.

Ford’s head swam. His limbs were still trembling slightly from the aftershocks as he felt Bill’s fingers brush the corner of his mouth.

They halted as he moved his lips weakly against them. Bill’s eye was gleaming with interest as the man grabbed his wrist, landing slowly intensifying kisses on the back of his hand, his knuckles, nails, fingertips. He almost shivered as Ford worked his tongue along the side of his index finger, allowed it to slip into his mouth…

And bit furiously down deep into the pitch-black flesh.


End file.
